


The Price of a Gift

by Lillielle



Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Empathy, Escape, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gifts Gone Amok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillielle/pseuds/Lillielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Talia's Gift has woken much too early...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of a Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little thing that fell into my head. I have not read Arrows of the Queen in a few years and am having trouble finding the details of the first few chapters, so things may be even wonkier than usual when it comes to AU drabbles.

Anger. Fear. Pain. Despair. The emotions hammer at her, wearing her down until she can do nothing but crouch weakly on the floor, her heart beating like a startled rabbit's, her hair sweat-soaked and clinging to her damp, reddened cheeks.

All Talia wants to do is simply finish up the wash and perhaps sneak an hour or two in the attic reading one of her story books, but it seems even this simple pleasure will be denied her as Keldar's shadow falls over her, and the angry smacks into her face with the force of a juggernaut.

"Get up!" Keldar barks, but all Talia can do is moan. She feels like if she opens her mouth at all, even to reply to the Firstwife, she will be sick all over the woman's shoes. And that will not put her in a better mood, no, it will not.

"Perhaps she's sick," one of the younger wives suggests in a timid voice. Talia can feel anxiety radiating off the woman in waves, although her face looks serene enough, and it makes her stomach twist once more.

"More than likely trying to shirk her duties," Keldar snaps, adding a haughty sniff. "Little 'uns are always doing that, and this one more than most!" Shame burns in Talia's cheeks as she tries desperately to regain control of something, anything.

Finally, Keldar gives up and stomps out of the kitchen, taking the spiky feelings of anger with her and with it, much of Talia's illness. She sits back on her heels, swallowing hard against the nasty taste in the back of her throat. It will not do to vomit into the washtub, after all.

"Sorry, love," the same younger wife whispers. Now she feels warm, soothing, and Talia falls into her embrace with a grateful whimper. The nausea recedes still farther.

"You're Talia, right?" the woman asks. Talia nods, pushing back her hair into some semblance of order, lest Keldar see it later and scold her once more. "I'm Anyla," the woman confides and Talia sees now that she is little more than a girl, only about five or so years older than Talia. Father is scraping the bottom of the barrel again, Talia thinks and feels a sting of shame at the thought. It is good to be married off young, really. Granted, the chances of anything going well with Keldar as Firstwife are slim, but still.

"You're not exactly sick, are you," Anyla says, a shrewd look on her round face, and Talia gasps, scrambling backward, nearly knocking over the tub of wash water.

"What do you mean?" Talia hisses. Is she to be accused of witchcraft now? Sorcery? Will Anyla get her thrown out of the Holding? A ten year old child out on her own, she thinks. Won't that be lovely.

"You look perfectly fine now, for one, now that Keldar is gone," Anyla points out. Talia shakes her head roughly.

"Must have been just a touch of something then," Talia dismisses, turning back to her washing and finishing it quickly. She wants to be as far away from Anyla as possible, as quickly as possible. The woman is touched if she thinks Talia will confide anything smacking of sorcery in her, a stranger she's just met.

 

She wants the emotional fits to go away, but they don't. Always, it seems, she can sense what people are feeling around her. And it's almost always negative. She starts to get a reputation as even more of a strange loner than she already has, and sticks to Father's Mother when she can't be alone. The elderly woman is almost always placid and calm, and it has a soothing effect on the girl. Talia loses herself even more in fantasy, pouring over each tale of Heralds in the desperate hope that one of them mentions something remotely similar to what she goes through on a daily basis. But no one does. She still wants to be a Herald, of course, wants it more than anything with each new tale smuggled in or each old one lovingly reread, but it seems impossible. She's a nothing. A little, odd Holderkin girl with a curse upon her, or so it feels, and how could anybody deal with that?

When she turns thirteen, Keldar begins to speak of marriage, and Talia rebels so quickly, she can scarcely grasp what she's done. But she knows she can't get married. She simply can't. The emotions of a brand-new Holding around her, overwhelming her...it will destroy her soul. She can't tell Keldar that, though, spiky and prickly with fury as always, and instead, she blurts out that she wants to be a Herald, though she's dismissed it as a child's faerie dream long ago.

Keldar gasps and sputters with outrage and Talia turns to run, barely noticing Anyla in the corner, a smirk playing about the corners of her mouth.

She reaches her hiding place, a spot high up in the cliffs, where no one will think to look, and begins to plan. Surely there is somewhere she can go. Not a Holding, no, word of what she has done will quickly spread, and no one will want to take her in, a plain, worthless orphan who cringes away from gatherings of people. But perhaps she can move past them. She is thirteen now, after all, and she may be able to make it further into Valdemar. At the least, it is worth a try. Maybe she can even make a go of living by herself in the forest, alone. It will be a lonely life, but manageable, Talia thinks. And best of all, no emotions to press in on her, to encroach upon her mind and body, to make her empty her stomach on the floor as quietly as she can, to make tears prickle the corners of her eyes until she thinks she will go mad...

But then Talia hears the jangle of bells on the road below and like all best-laid plans, this one swiftly turns itself to dust...


End file.
